


Pocketful of Promise

by kedgeree



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, fluffy fluff, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:31:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedgeree/pseuds/kedgeree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after John and Sherlock's first kisses, John discovers what Sherlock has in his pocketses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocketful of Promise

The absolute best part about kissing Sherlock Holmes, John decided as they walked side by side down Shaftesbury Avenue, was that he could do it any time he wanted. Sherlock had said so. He looked up at the little bounce Sherlock's curls gave with each footstep, at the way the December air had reddened the tip of his nose, and at the dark lashes framing his clear blue-green-whatever eyes.

 _Now_ , John thought, would definitely be a fine time.

He impulsively grabbed Sherlock's hand, something he had yet to try outside of the necessity of running in sync whilst handcuffed. Glove-to-glove, although at the moment John wished it were hand-to-hand, skin-to-skin like last night, that wonderful, _revelatory_ night…he pulled a surprised-looking Sherlock out of the flow of foot traffic and manoeuvred him against one of the red-bricked columns of a shop façade. Sherlock's breath puffed out in a visible cloud in the cold.

"Kiss me," demanded John with a confident smile.

Sherlock's eyes dropped immediately to John's mouth, then shifted away evasively. "Now? Lestrade _is_ expecting us."

John's smile faltered. All right, true, this kissing thing was very, _very_ new. Maybe _any time_ hadn't meant whilst on a case, where they were heading now. Maybe _any time_ hadn't meant in _public_. John looked over his shoulder at the apparently disinterested passers-by, then back at Sherlock uncertainly. He felt himself flushing with embarrassment. "I—I'm sorry, I thought…"

Sherlock's shoulders sunk as his expression turned to dismay. "Oh, John, _no_..." he breathed, and folded John in his arms. He claimed John's mouth without hesitation in a deep kiss that was simultaneously demanding and tender in that special contradictory way that was so perfectly _Sherlock_.

John's knees actually felt weak, and whether it was from relief or from the kiss itself he couldn't say for certain. He didn't care. Sherlock's hand was cupping the back of his head and John kissed him with a combination of reproof and fierce affection that was, he supposed, perfectly _John_.

"Sherlock," he murmured as soon as they paused for a breath. "You're amazing. And you taste like…peppermint!" He grinned and stole another kiss from those gorgeous, plumped lips. _His. Any time._ "And chocolate."

"Mm," Sherlock hummed, sliding his nose against John's.

"Hang on." John blinked and pulled back to peer at Sherlock's face suspiciously. " _Why_ do you taste like peppermint and chocolate? We're on a _case_."

Sherlock sighed and looked away.

John squinted up at him. "You don't eat while we're on a case. Slows you down."

"I _don't_ ," Sherlock pouted. " _Much_."

"You sneaky bastard." John huffed a laugh. "When did you even…? Is _that_ why you didn't want to kiss me?"

With another, even heavier sigh, Sherlock reached into his right coat pocket. There was a cellophane crinkle and a soft _snap_ , and Sherlock held out a small triangle of peppermint bark to John with a petulant scowl. "Here. Merry Christmas."

John took the sweet with a triumphant grin and popped it into his mouth, crunching the little chips of peppermint between his teeth. "Is this all I'm getting for Christmas, then?"

"Yes." Sherlock sniffed haughtily, but his eyes were dancing. "Probably."

"Oh?" John's eyebrows lifted as he reached for Sherlock's coat. "Do you have something else hidden away in there?"

"No!" Sherlock clapped a gloved hand over his left pocket in alarm. There was another crinkling sound. "You're _not_ having the jelly babies."

John stared, then started to giggle. "You _fraud!_ "

"Shhh!" Sherlock rolled his eyes and snapped his coat collar, even though it was already up. "Yes, fine, now you _know_. I hope you're happy."

"Sherlock." John pressed his hand flat against the centre of Sherlock's chest, met his eyes, and said clearly and slowly, "I have _never_ been happier."

When the resulting crushing, promise-filled kiss drew to a reluctant end, Sherlock mumbled wonderingly against John's mouth, "You taste of peppermint."

"You realize, of course, this means I'm going to have to start checking your pockets for sweets." John let his eyes slide down Sherlock's body, lingering at the level of his hips. One corner of his mouth curled into a lascivious grin. " _All_ of them. Thoroughly. And frequently."

Sherlock swallowed, grinned, frowned, blinked, and grinned again. "I…look forward to it."

"But first…" John released a heavy sigh. "I suppose we do have a boring old _case_."

"Yes." Much to John's gratification, Sherlock actually looked almost conflicted. He looked down the street in the direction where Lestrade would be waiting for them behind the crime scene tape with a no doubt grisly and complicated murder to investigate. Sherlock pushed himself away from the wall with determination and a new spark in his eye. "And this one _does_ sound _very_ promising. Yes. We should go."

John grinned, rocked back on his heels, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Ready when you are."

Sherlock started down the street and then paused mid-step. He turned and tentatively held out a gloved hand to John.

Feeling like his heart might actually burst through his chest at any moment, John pulled one hand from his pocket and laced his fingers with Sherlock's, glove-to-glove, wishing it were skin-to-skin.

"I like the red ones," John said as they started walking.

"What?"

"Jelly babies."

"Mm." Sherlock was quiet for almost half a block. "Perhaps I'll keep _one_ for you."

"In a pocket?"

"You can..." Sherlock cleared his throat. "Practice your detective skills in finding it."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand. "I look forward to it."


End file.
